


turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you

by firrehearrt



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Pining, Sad, post-breakup fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 16:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30142062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firrehearrt/pseuds/firrehearrt
Summary: Aelin could stop sleeping with Rowan any time she wanted. It's just that she doesn't want to.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you

**Author's Note:**

> whoops hi hello this came out of no where

“This is the last time.”

“Sure it is,” he grumbles, not even bothering to turn over in bed to face her. It’s enough to put a frown on her face. 

“I mean it.”

“You said that last time.” He shoves a pillow under his head. “It’s two a.m., let me get back to sleep.”

Aelin’s frown deepens. It shouldn’t bother her that he doesn’t believe her… and yet. “I’m done with this Rowan.” She shoves a leg into her jeans, hopping up as she hooks her fingers into the belt loops, successfully pulling them on. 

“It’s cold outside, take a hoodie with you.”

“I’m not seeing you again.”

That proves successful in making him roll over. There’s a smirk plastered on his lips. One of disbelief. “Sure, babe.” He gestures to the closet. “Grab a hoodie.”

She’s not coming back. Not doing this again. It’s too hard to leave every single time. Hard to crawl out of his bed. One of these times, she’ll break, and she’ll stay, and he’ll have her again. 

Nevertheless, she grabs the hoodie. She’s just about to leave his bedroom, meet the uber downstairs, when he calls out. “Let me know when you get home?”

She doesn’t dare turn back. Doesn’t dare look into that room, evidence of their activities everywhere. If she so much as glances at those sheets, at his hair mussed by her hands, she’s going to break and fall back into him. 

She nods, not looking back, quickly pulling the sweatshirt over her torso. It’s too big, too warm, too soft. Smells too much like him. She’s going to sleep with it in, undoubtedly. Pretend he’s next to her. 

That they’re okay. 

She’s in and out of the car in five minutes. Five hours. Twenty days. Who knows. Time is meaningless, without him. Instead, she favors staring out the window, the rain on the pavement making the city glitter. Grasps at the fabric she’s surrounded in, breathing it in. She’ll see him again. There’s no point denying it. But she’ll take the sweater back when it loses its Rowanness. And only then. Because between now and the next time she sees him, it’s the only thing that will keep her going. The promise of it sitting at home, waiting for her. Like he used to do. 

~~

Flowers sit on her desk, making a mockery of her. Why he would spend such an absurd amount of money on someone he doesn’t even like is beyond her. The note proves to further confuse her. A simple heart, signed Rowan. 

It’s to mess with her, surely. This is something you do for someone you’re still with. Not someone who broke up with you months ago. Whether or not she’s still sleeping with you. Aelin drops the pen on her desk, officially giving up on the paper in front of her. It’s her prep period, and she’s gotten nothing done. A walk might help, she figures. Fresh air’s good for clearing exes out of your head. 

She thinks, anyways. She has yet to find a long term cure.

Aelin slips out of her heels, grabbing the tennis shoes sitting in her trunk. The river sways beside her, water moving in and out of each and every crevice. A bird chirps from not far off the path. 

A happy sound. 

He’d taken her on a picnic, once. Before they’d broken up. They didn’t do dates now. They did late half drunken nights in his bed, they did flowers sent to sit on desks leaving the other to wonder what the hell it meant. 

Step, step again. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

She didn’t miss him. It was better this way, anyways. She’d move on soon enough. And it would all be a mistake of the past. 

(If she said it enough, she might start to believe it.)

A leaf tumbled down in front of her, a reminder that fall was soon to come. Fall, that season their love had been born in. As he’d dragged her through a corn maze, pulling giggles out of her lips with every blatantly wrong turn. Fall, as he’d helped her pick out the biggest pumpkin at the patch, pulling out the guts later when she wanted to carve it. Fall, and the latte’s he’d brought her on her lunches. The smell of pumpkin and beautiful loss in the air as he’d wooed her. 

Her own fault, really, for letting herself get attached. A mistake she wasn’t prone to make again soon. 

Fall, as they’d celebrated his birthday, as she forced him to eat the pumpkin cookies she’d made. A year ago, today. They’d been dating two months, grabbing every moment with each other that they could, her school schedule busy, coaching volleyball and getting back into the groove of things. He’d been more flexible, able to give more than she had. So when his birthday came up, she’d given her all to it, inviting all their friends over, stockpiling for the bonfire, getting Lysandra to help her cook. He’d smiled so bright, as they danced around the fire that night. 

Fall had given way to winter, and he’d nearly moved in at that point, curling up with her on the couch as she graded, his sketch pad in hand as he’d drawn… everything. He’d drew her, drew Fleetfoot, drew the fireplace. Drew them. 

Tempted, she had been so tempted to throw the framed picture away. But it sat on her nightstand. A reminder of all she’d lost, so carelessly, too. 

She doesn't text him that day. Doesn’t show up on his door, doesn’t check Facebook, where she’d undoubtedly be met with birthday wishes from all their friends to him. Pictures of all of them plastered up, framed with words about their adoration of him. 

If she looks… if she looks she will break. 

It’s a fine line that she walks, between giving in to what she wants, what she needs. But if she goes back, lets herself think about the possibility of a life between them. It would hurt too bad. To really lose him. 

So she doesn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me! I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/firrehearrt) and sometimes [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/firrehearrt)


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